


It's All One Thing

by helena_s_renn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Impala Fic, M/M, Teenage Winchesters, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s first kiss had been in that car. A couple years later, he first got laid in the Impala, too. The last person he’d thought he’d lose his virginity to was Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All One Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This story was inspired by the artwork entitled "let the whole world look in; who cares who sees anything" by badbastion.  
> Sam is 15.
> 
> Beta by Christian.Howe

Sam’s first kiss had been in that car, thanks to Sheila Powers from Sheboygan in the eighth grade. She’d been in ninth, but once he’d hit puberty at twelve, Sam had always been big for his age. Honestly, he wondered what all the fuss was about. It was nice, pleasant, but not what everyone made it out to be. Sheila didn’t seem to care that Dean kept glancing at them and smirking in the rearview mirror. For all Sam knew, Dean had got to her later, but if he had, he’d mercifully kept it to himself.

A couple years later, he first got laid in the Impala too, the worn leather of the back seat cradling his back and cupping his ass. He could see the stars, Orion and the Pleiades, through the long, low back window where he’d lain as a little kid on their long drives across the country. There, so obvious in his peripheral vision, his bent legs, square, blunt kneecaps jammed one against each of the seat backs. And there, too, was Dean, on top of him, the center of everything, inside him. Sam had left his eyes open. To close them would have been to lose himself, lose his place in the universe, and drown in sensation so intense he’d never come back to himself.

 

The last person he’d thought he’d lose his virginity to was Dean. The circumstances that found him there were uninteresting, even boring, for them: on a mundane errand to seek out spell ingredients and filch an old book of lore. Dean, of all people, his smart-ass older brother, who had used the same very place for his sexual exploits for years, had shaken him awake very late down some abandoned county road in northern Indiana, pointed out Sam’s embarrassing dream-induced boner, and next thing Sam knew, had leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. 

It wasn’t just a kiss, or it sure as hell was different than any Sam had had before. Soft yet urgent, the full contours of Dean’s lips creating a little suction against his. There was just the tiniest insinuation of tongue that touched his front teeth and withdrew. An electric jolt flashed from Sam’s lips to his heart to his dick. Blindsided, he pulled back, eyes wide as caverns, staring. Staring at Dean’s lips, supple and perfect, tucked up in the corners, and he felt feverish with need. His body knew what it wanted. A long second later, he lunged awkwardly, his own mouth landing somewhere in the right vicinity but off-center. 

Dean pushed him back a little. “What’s the matter, Sam? Out of practice? It’s not like you’ve never kissed a girl. I saw to that myself.” There was that smirk. “Guess I’ll have to re-teach you.” His arms folded around Sam, urging him closer, into the heat of his chest.

Sam couldn’t help it, he leaned in, pressed in, wrapping his arms around his brother. This felt right in a way it never had before, heavy bone and muscle, power and masculinity. He held on tight, looking into Dean’s face. “Please, Dean... again.” 

“Again, huh? For a second there, I thought you were going to punch me.” 

“No. I—”

“Be still, Sam. Just...” Dean kissed him again. So slow, torturously slow at first. This was what would shape him for the rest of his life, Sam knew it. The easy brushing of lips. Movement, straining toward the inner areas. Licking. So satisfying, that, sensing like a blind young mammal with just his mouth, the scent of his brother filling his nostrils. There were ways and other ways to kiss, crossing first one way then the other, licking at teeth, sliding their tongues together. Sam’s hard-on throbbed painfully. His nipples were hard too, as if he’d been outside in freezing weather but everything was warm, bordering on hot, and it felt so good. Dean just kept kissing him, letting Sam kiss him back till he learned the art, how to curl his lips just so, when to lick, when to draw back a little and regroup for the next round.

Time skewed sideways; it seemed to go on forever, and Sam wanted it to. He felt like everything in his body was coiled tight – his lungs, his guts, every muscle, his balls. No stranger to what the pulling and yearning would end with but never having had anything but his own hand, he was hesitant to push it further. 

Without warning, Dean’s hands found their way under his jacket and shirts, exploring the bare skin of Sam’s back. “Nice,” Dean hissed into Sam’s mouth. His tongue darted forward. His palms pushed up as far as Sam’s scapulae, down to the waistband of his jeans, back up again with nails trailing over goosebumped flesh. “C’mon, shirts off.” 

While Sam fought with the tangle, Dean had himself bare-chested in two seconds. Some part of Sam wanted to protest, because there would be nothing hiding his erection now. But what about...? Oh. Dean must be... Sam couldn’t control the dip of his eyes. They flew for a split second across the firm hairless chest, tight little rosy nipples and flat belly, and then lower, to the ridge under Dean’s zipper. He must have been staring too long, because Dean chuckled, a low resonance in their contained environment that throbbed in his ears. “You did that, Sam.” 

“Well, uh... you did that.” Shaking the inside-out shirts off his off hand, finally, Sam reached down and rubbed the swelling jut under his own denim. He felt raw, showing his brother the effect of their making out. Those moss-green eyes, almost black in the dark, checked out his boner.

“Mmm, I know. Now get back here.” Dean reached over and grabbed one of Sam’s belt loops, tugging him over. Lips again, Dean’s hands all over him, and Sam’s hands all over Dean. He felt as if he was about to drown, only what he was being sucked into was the thick, sticky, messy reality of Dean’s sexuality. Sam gasped as the smooth skin of their naked torsos brushed and pressed. Their shared kisses seared into his conscious. He needed to touch... everything. Skimming the muscles of Dean’s arms, shoulder, spine, Sam shivered and pulled, biceps bunching under Dean’s hands while his brother licked all over the side of his neck and nipped the tendons. 

“God, Dean... I never knew.” Sam leaned back, as far as he could go till he was slumped against the door, pushing his hips over and dragging Dean down on him. There it was, that hard cock against his thigh. 

“Knew what?” 

“How fucking good you’d feel.” 

Dean growled, rolled his hips, and just like that Sam knew all about what his brother would feel like and move like when he had sex. He wanted so bad he almost cried out, but snarled instead, taking Dean’s cue and snuffling into the juncture of shoulder and neck. A few hesitant licks gave him the taste of Dean’s skin. It was salt and honey on his tongue, an aftertaste of protein. Sam lapped it up, little licks and longer ones, then bites with his mouth open wide into the thick muscle under the skin. 

Dean’s breath hitched. He ground down, cock lined up to cock. “You wanna fuck?” 

Romantic it was not, as Dean would never be. Yet it was a whisper, and it was a question. The fact that Dean would take no for an answer made Sam feel like he could safely say yes. So he did.

This was as far, farther, than he’d ever been with a girl. Just Dean undoing Sam’s belt buckle, unbuttoning Sam’s jeans, unzipping them, reaching inside and the slide of Dean’s fingers on his cock was enough to make Sam cum helplessly, bursts of his white juice spurting up through Dean’s fingers. “Oh, god... I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam begged forgiveness, still cumming. Dean laughed, and he wanted to die. He nearly passed out from the intensity of his orgasm and humiliation. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I was expecting it. Did the same thing myself, once upon a time.” 

Sam filed that away for later. “You’re not mad?” 

“Hell, no. And anyway, we’re just getting started.” He licked the streaks of semen off his hand, both the white and the clear liquid of his saliva glowing phosphorescent green in the dashboard lights. 

Sam’s mouth dropped open. Without a word, Dean slithered out of his jeans and boxers, and over the seat. It wasn’t like Sam had never seen him naked. But since they’d been older than maybe eight and twelve, it had always been quick, having to change clothes hurriedly thanks to a job, eyes averted. And Dean had never been hard. 

Later, Sam wouldn’t remember shedding the rest of his clothes or the awkward climb into the back. When he more or less fell onto the narrow strip of carpeted floorboards, Dean hauled him up by the arm, laid him down on the seat, and shoved his legs up and apart.

“Anyone ever do this for you?” Dean asked. At first Sam wasn’t sure what he meant. Dean licked him once, across the tip of his glans, and... Oh. He had just never featured a guy, much less his brother, going down on him. 

“N-no. Never.” It came out like he was dying, all breath. Even though he’d just cum, Sam was hard again just from the thought of what was happening to him. He struggled up onto his elbows, the need to see this so primal it would have been torture to be denied it. First Dean looked him over, and Sam would have blushed but his face had been flushed from the get-go. Apparently he was not found lacking. Dean’s eyebrows arched into little peaks, and he looked up for half a second with a greedy grin. Then his mouth touched down, lips open, tongue extending... Sam hissed at the wet heat of Dean’s mouth around the head, but a second later, Dean took more of him, sliding down over the fissure, and farther. He pulled back, slid down again.

Sam growled. He’d never made a noise like that before, not even during his best whack-off sessions. After a couple too-fast bucks, he flexed his hips in the rhythm his brother set. Dean’s lips were going to drive him insane, wrapped around his cock like that, sucking him down almost to the base, leaving spit trails. The spiky dark-blond tips of Dean’s hair shivered as he bobbed his head. Sam’s thoughts were a torment of right and wrong, black and white, but when Dean went for what he did next, Sam was done for. 

That slightly raspy tongue that skimmed past his balls with a firm lick to each, and down further to his hole was skilled and dirty, he blushed to think how dirty, saliva everywhere, and he was writhing and leaking on himself, frantic to hold on till... he didn’t know what. Since when did Dean like boys? Since when did HE like boys? Fuck it. Rough, calloused hands pushed him wider. He could hear Dean spit. A finger then two fingers pushed up his butt, one palm on his belly to hold him down. His body fought it, but Dean didn’t let up on him, and the stretch was tolerable. Was he really making all those desperate noises? He sounded like he was about to die.

The windows had become totally fogged, so when Dean came up and settled between his legs, his brother’s face above his against the vinyl backdrop of the car’s ceiling was all Sam saw with any focus. The stars were hidden from him, now that their breath steamed the windows. And why not? Dean was kinda hard not to hone in on, even if you tried, and Sam still knew where he was in time and space. 

“You ready?”

“I... I dunno.”

Something wider and blunter than fingers touched his hole. “Relax, Sammy. Don’t fight me. It’ll be good.” Dean spit into his hand and reached down to coat himself. His next move, shoulders still and pelvis forward, anyone could translate by the shift what he was doing.

Sam’s mouth opened wide. He felt helpless now, spread and on his back. Dean was strong and crafty, and he used his position as leverage. One of his hands was clamped on Sam’s hipbone, the other under his back, fingers digging into his shoulder and slowly, slowly, he inched himself in, inched Sam open. It burned! God, it burned. And it was his asshole being stretched in ways it was never meant to, that of any body part. 

Dean was watching him turn red and his face contort. “That’s right, scream if you need to. You can take it.” He had yelled, Sam just realized; he pushed back, which somehow slid him farther and more easily down onto Dean’s hard cock. 

He flailed, not liking the unnatural stretch at all. Not physically. The fact that Dean was in him, well. “Jesus, please!” As answer, Dean shoved into him twice more, till he was as deep as he could go. His balls rested against Sam’s ass, so delicate, skin loose around the dual cargo brushing strained muscles. Sam's whole body shuddered and he tamped down a whimper, looking up into Dean’s glittering eyes. He could feel a tear running from each of the outside corners of his own eyes. Physiological response. 

“You crying, Sammy?”

“NO.”

“Don’t worry, I know it hurts. Not for long, though. Try to loosen up for me. Stop clenching. Let out your breath, slowly. No hyperventilating.” 

Sam struggled a minute before he could manage. His body wanted to force out the intrusion. It took a couple tries, but then he relaxed back there, it helped. Dean bent down to kiss up his chest and neck, and that little reward made it better. His ears, especially, were so sensitive that every breath on them made his cock swell little by little. 

In the area it mattered most, Dean had not moved once since he was in. 

“Dean, aren’t you supposed to like, do something? Like, what about thrusting?”

“Don’t worry, little brother. We’ll get to that.” Dean shifted his weight to the side. Slowly, starting at Sam’s waist, he ran a hand along the side of his belly and chest. Circled the nipple, glided across to the other. “Just look at you. Skin’s so soft, just a little hair, here...” Dean’s finger traced the thin line down from Sam’s navel, along-side his cock, which lay pulsing, moisture pooled in the slit. 

“Please... touch it...” Sam whispered arching up. He was ready to come apart, just from that.

“So fucking hot, perfect under me, wanting this, wanting me.” Dean’s eyes and hand dipped to Sam’s groin. He cupped his hand under his little brother’s balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. Sam had come before, but the stones were dense and heavy in Dean’s hand. More silvery fluid escaped and caught in the hairs by Sam’s navel. “So it’s true, what they say about proportional.” There was a note of wonder in Dean’s voice.

Sam had no idea about that. Dean’s cock was thicker than his and he obviously knew what to do with it. In any case, he didn’t like to be teased. “Yeah, whatever. Want this. C’mon, Dean...!” His long, long legs wrapped around his brother’s hips, pulling him in. From below, Sam bucked up, pushing his erection into Dean’s belly. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Dean drew back, bent down to claim Sam’s mouth, and slammed his hips up and forward, one foot jammed against the window for purchase. This time it felt kind of good, or at least it was getting better. Now there was motion, rhythm. As Dean moved over and into him, Sam took counterpoint from below. His hands were all over the fair, freckled skin. For the first time in his life, Sam touched another person without any sort of restraint. All those muscles, which he had always admired from the corners of his eyes, worked in harmony for the pleasure of both of them. He curved his fingers around Dean’s ass, feeling the clench-bump-twist, the power of him. Especially, Sam loved the ridges on each side of his brother’s spine, pulling taut, risen like a continental drift. Dean rolled his hips in tighter and tighter arcs, the fact that he was close obvious in the set of his jaw and the moans wrenching from him. 

Sam felt like he was barely just hanging on. His aching, leaking cock was trapped between them. Hell, it was sexy, not just watching but experiencing firsthand with his body and mind, his brother’s sex. The act of it. Whatever. “Make me come, Dean!” Sam hissed. “Touch me!” 

“Yes....” Dean’s right hand grasped him tight. Sam rose up on his elbows as best he could, demanding his mouth. Dean kissed him and thrust hard, all the rough surfaces of his palm sliding up Sam’s cock, down again. His hips pulled back, rebounded, scudded with motion suddenly fluid. Sam saw it in his face, too, moss-green irises just rings around blown pupils, that surprised blink. The knowledge that Dean came, and why and how, and the hot spurts of sticky cream in his ass, pushed Sam from ‘almost there’ into a humping mess of errant semen that just kept cumming. He howled, couldn’t have kept that in any more than his offering of seed. 

Dean withdrew his hand and slumped on top of him, panting in Sam’s ear. “So... you’re a screamer,” he remarked, smirk in his voice. 

“And you’re not.” Sam hadn’t meant to, but his tone came out accusatory.

“Sometimes I am.” Expecting his brother to pull out and pretend nothing had ever happened, Sam locked his ankles and wrapped his arms around Dean.

“Sometimes? Like when?” 

There, there was Dean’s lips against his neck, a slow flick of the tongue to the hollow of his throat. “You taste so sweet, Sammy.”

“And you...” It was impossible to put everything to words. “You’re, um, I love you. I mean, I loved how you... fucked me.” Sam ran his palm all the way up Dean’s back, which was relaxed now, he would go so far as to say languid, and into the short, soft bristles of hair on the back of his head. 

“Sam.” 

“Huh?”

“There’s a difference between fucking and love.” 

The younger brother’s heart kicked so hard in his chest, he thought he’d pass out. He should have known, what with Dean’s history. Sam was certain Dean must have lost his virginity even younger than Sam just had. There’d been a lot of towns since then, a lot of hook-ups, and Dean did like to go on TMI-style just to make his baby brother cringe. That should have given him a clue.

“Oh.” Sam was not going to be a girl about it. Not in front of Dean. “Right.” 

“Except,” Dean went on, a similar tone of wonder in his voice, like earlier. “Except for you, not with you. Sam... It’s all one thing. With you.” 

So the world turned on its ear a second time in ten seconds. Sam supposed that was okay. It wasn’t exactly comfortable; the Impala had big bench seats but they both were over six feet, and sticky and sweaty, the air steamed and heavily laden with sex and pheromones. Sam only nodded. They shared a long, slow kiss, tongues curling lazily together. The urgency was gone—for now. Even as Dean slipped free, Sam wondered how long till they could... again. 

Something else, too. “Dean.”

“What?”

“I never got to... to touch you.”

“Sure you did, Grabby McGrabberton.” 

Sam laughed. “I mean, your... your cock.” 

“Well, I just thought you were shy.” Dean kissed him again, as if shy or not was all good with him.

“Dean?”

“What, Sam?”

“You said, ‘sometimes’. Sometimes you might make noises. When?”

“Well,” Dean grinned, his swollen lips tipping up again at the corners. “Maybe I’ll leave that for you to figure out.”

Sam did have one idea. “Yeah, okay. So like, when I fuck you?”

If they hadn’t just, Sam would have sworn by the surprised blink and semi-stoned glaze of his eyes that Dean had cum again. “You little shit!”

“What, never?” If he never got a turn to do the driving, so to speak, Sam knew he would accept it, but not quietly.

“You’ll have to earn it.”

Sam could live with that.

 

Fin.


End file.
